


Who is the Father of Evil?

by Blownwish



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Angst, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Rage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 00:48:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1206670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blownwish/pseuds/Blownwish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Father wasn't soft. He was slippery. I remember how he would move like a serpent: twisting and turning over and over as I tried to reach him with my attacks. He knew my weakness, too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who is the Father of Evil?

Father was, in my childhood, god. He gave me everything that made me special. Gave it to me and left me to unravel it like a mystery when he disappeared. To know it was to know him in myself. 

As the father, so the son.

Piccolo knows I am soft. Soft and insane. "You need the insanity to compensate for that softness." He knows just how to make it hurt less.

Father wasn't soft. He was slippery. I remember how he would move like a serpent: twisting and turning over and over as I tried to reach him with my attacks. He knew my weakness, too.

"Don't turn your back!"

"Move, Gohan! Don't just stand there and take it!"

"Quit holding back so much! Show me what you learned!"

He used to smile when he said those things. As if they weren't cruel. 

At least Piccolo doesn't smile. "You might be strong, Gohan, but you're still soft." He shows me his fangs. Doesn't evade with smiles and laughter.

Father might have died for us all. But he made me responsible for his death. Made me the walking apology for his absence. What kind of father gives his son that burden? I'd almost say he is evil. But that would be... Blasphemy.

I train. I study. I sit with Piccolo and meditate. Even in my calmest thoughts I am enraged because he is not here.

"You want something you will never have." 

I don't lie to Piccolo. I could. I could say whatever I want and he would think I meant it. I know how to lie. It is one of the few things father taught me well. But I need to be honest with someone, and Piccolo is the only one I can trust. "I wish I could have killed him, directly." I clarify: "Not Cell. Him." I point up.

"You never had the balls. Probably never will." 

"You would. If you were able."

"No point considering it. I'm not strong enough. You're... human. You are angry but you also secretly hope he will come back to you. So there's no point."

He's right. He's always right. "But if I stop hoping, will you help me?"

He just looked through me. 

"I will need you."

"Not if you lose that softness. That's the thing deluding you with hope in the first place."

Mother was pinning laundry when I came home. She thought I was studying at some city library. Somewhere. I don't even bother with details anymore. She doesn't want to know anything, anymore. 

"Hope you studied up for those Orange Star entrance exams." 

I already took them. She doesn't know I took the early tests, last Spring, so I could train this summer. "Sure."

She shakes out a bed sheet. Whips it overhead and snaps the pins in place with two efficient movements. She is always a martial artist, even when she does housework. "I am so proud of you, Gohan. You're so smart. So dependable. There's a word I'm looking for..." She taps her chin. 

"I don't know."

"Not earnest." Of course not. "Already said reliable." 

Maybe a synonym? "Steadfast?"

She claps. "Right as usual."

I kiss her cheek. She clings to my arm. "Love you, Mother."

"Why can't he be more like you?" 

I pull away, gently. I go to my room, quickly. Open a book. I don't know what it is about. I don't recognise the language. I am not even trying to read it.

I am remembering the way he smiled, just before he died. The way he smiled at me. Like he was laughing. Laughing because I wanted him to live.


End file.
